If I wore a necktie -- which I don't -- I would have straightened it.
Instead I simply swallowed dryly, checked the house number for the Nth time, rechecked my watch -09:30 precisely, per arrangements- and knocked. Five seconds later, the front door opened and Jodee stood there, her infectious grin exactly the same as forty years ago. We fell into one another's arms for a huge full-body hug that seemed to erase the decades.
Way back when, we'd been lovers for eighteen months or so. I was her biology lab instructor, aged twenty-four and just out of the Marines, insanely and perpetually horny. She was a new freshman, barely eighteen.
When we met she had just three weeks earlier, literally on her arrival day, fallen into the clutches of an on-campus jackass Mormon preacher who convinced her to convert, and then explained to her that she was by virtue of conversion physically and spiritually a virgin once more. She later admitted it all smelt fishy.
She was a good student. Plus she was friendly and open - and extraordinarily cute! A lovely slender figure, and quite busty.
After one class meeting early in the semester, she hung around until we were alone, then approached me without a trace of hesitation or embarrassment - she would like to talk about some things biological that she'd been told by a preacher, would I be interested in having her come over to my place sometime and cook dinner, we could talk, she would value my opinions, and besides that, she liked me!
I wasn't used to being so boldly approached, and it worked perfectly: dinner happened that very night, a Friday. Both a motorcycle ride to my place and a pre-dinner banana daiquiri helped loosen her up -- not that she needed much of that, she was extremely frank and open.
We quickly dismissed as specious claptrap the renewal of her virginity - she admitted somewhat shyly to having fucked widely since age twelve, and was greatly relieved to find I didn't criticize. She even seemed surprised and a little awed when I told her I'd begun at age eleven myself.
The conversation veered off into things sexual, the mutual responsibility for one's partner's pleasure, and then particularly contraception, about which she knew little, but was aware of her ignorance and wanted to learn. I showed her my favorite -- contraceptive foam which one emplaced against the cervix by using a little plastic injector. She thought it a marvelous invention.
Soon she suggested it was time for her to cook -- which she did. Spaghetti, and quite good.
We lazed about after dinner, did a bit of necking (she was a delicious kisser) and mild through-the-clothing fondling whilst sprawled on my couch. I was being more gentlemanly (read 'less pushy') than I wished, mostly in light of her being my student and of that recent religious nonsense -- despite the evening's intense discussions I wasn't sure yet how deeply she might have internalized the crapola and didn't want to give hurt unnecessarily.
Anyhow, I was certainly horny enough for a whole pack of cub scouts by late evening, when I suggested (being gentlemanly as I was) that we should take her back to the dorm -- via car, not bike, daiquiris considered. She looked at me with a wide-open, slightly gamine expression, then went shy in a way unique to her, a mannerism that popped up occasionally and simply, utterly melted me inside.
She shook her head, picked up the foam applicator, and said "I don't have to go yet. I don't WANT to, either. What I'd really like is to try out some of this stuff."
She watched my expression, read it correctly, and began unbuttoning her blouse. We left my house at about mid-afternoon next day, experienced but not sated. We were an item for a long time.
Forty-plus years can make a person hard to find. I'd tried -- purely out of curiosity -- to find her and about half a dozen other old flames. Now, I'm no dilettante on the internet, but I'd had zero luck, finally deciding that she must have married and changed her name, else died. Just about the time I gave up the occasional desultory search, I got an email from her! Admittedly, as a well-published scientist with a checkered, wildly variegated career, it's easier to find me... but what a coincidence. She wrote that she, too, was just curious. The net result was a series of increasingly detailed and intimate emails, a couple of long phone calls, and finally this visit, which had my blood pressure slightly up, and my pulse elevated as well. It wasn't clear what was supposed to transpire -- after all, she admitted candidly to being near the end of her sixth marriage. No wonder I couldn't find her!
